"Can the drummer get some vocals in his monitors please?" A variation of the most common phrase you'll ever hear a singer say on stage, and yet Lewis Bowman, Chapel Club's enigmatic vocalist, says it with such charm. Bowman is certainly the secret weapon in the arsenal of this alt-indie five-piece; he has that undefinable but all-desirable "thing" that a frontman or woman really needs to enchant their audience. His demeanour is earnest without ever veering too close to pious, his distinctive visage both attractive and strange, his voice both silky and sonorous, something akin to Bernard Sumner – if Sumner could really sing – and Morrissey, without the self-important, flick-of-the-wrist quality. Songs like Bodies and the Dream a Little Dream of Me-sampling Surfacing stand out for their heartstring-pulling qualities, all surging chords, doleful medley and chugging drums tapping the band's ability to achieve the rain-washed sound of Echo and the Bunnymen.

More often than not, though, Chapel Club's songs only hint at something dazzling without ever knocking you off your feet. What the band do have is presence, which is important, and the fact that they've been playing together for a handful of years rather than a handful of months, like some bands who've made the pilgrimage to SXSW, is evident in the smoothness of the show and the musical proficiency of the songs. Only one album in with the mildly received Palace, there's still more than a suggestion of potential and you can't help but feel – hope, perhaps? – that they're just a heartbeat away from writing that stop-you-in-your tracks hook or killer chorus. Until then, it's over to Bowman: "Seems too early in the day to be emoting to this degree… oh, he needs some more vocal I'm afraid."